Between the Shadow and the Soul
by Dizzydodo
Summary: Modern Day AU. The dreams were harmless fantasy for awhile, and then in some twist of fate Leonard McCoy found himself facing off against one very real, entirely too affectionate demon with very real and decidedly not affectionate enemies. If he can just last out the month there may be a way to end Jim's dependency on him, but by then he may not want to.


Leonard McCoy blessed the twist of fate that had sent Christine Chapel back to work a full week before her leave was supposed to end; sheer boredom had caused her to come in early she claimed, but Len had heard rumors about the end of her year-long affair with Roger Korby, and personally he was glad of it.

First off, McCoy was firmly convinced that the dick was in no way good enough for the gifted nurse, as evidenced by the fact that he'd been dabbling with giggly first years practically since day one.

Secondly, selfish though it might be, Len was exhausted after pulling two shifts back to back; by the time Christine had walked through the sliding door he was swaying on his feet with fatigue, blearily squinting at the clock in the hope that it would hurry the hell up and mark the hour.

Chapel had wasted no time in calling a taxi to take him home over his vociferous protests that he could go for another twenty minutes, dammit. He'd found himself bundled hastily into the back of a cab while Christine instructed the driver to take him home as quickly as possible, and _no tricky shortcuts _or she'd track him down and- Leonard had fallen asleep right about then.

Hunched into a corner of the backseat, dozing lightly while the radio blared something almost like music, Leonard admitted to himself that he was a little relieved Chapel had refused to let him finish the shift; it was entirely possible he'd been pushing himself a bit too hard.

Besides, tomorrow- today now- was Friday and he had Joanna all to himself this weekend for Halloween. He doubted she'd be very impressed if he slept through her trick-or-treating after promising buckets of sugar and hours of play. Joanna had forgiven him much, but her tolerance extended only so far, and heaven knew the poor kid had already been disappointed enough this year.

"Hey, this your place?" Leonard glanced out the window, rubbing his eyes to clear them of sleep.

"Yeah, this is it." Damn. He hadn't left the porch light on; looked like he was going to have the devil's own time trying to fumble his key into the deadbolt.

Leonard barely retained the presence of mind to pay his fare and mumble a half-hearted farewell before limping up his driveway toward home. Tiny bolts of agony raced up his legs to coil in the small of his back, reminding him of just how long it had been since he'd last bothered to sit and rest for a minute. Atlanta General was always crowded, but something about Halloween just seemed to bring out the lunatics, and he'd had more than his fair share of close calls tonight.

He waved gratefully when the taxi's high-beams fell on his door, letting him at least see where the keys were supposed to go, even if he had a little trouble making his trembling fingers cooperate. He'd had far too much caffeine and far too little sleep for this exercise in patience; when the deadbolt finally clicked open, he allowed his body weight to push the door in and stumbled into the hallway gracelessly while toeing off his shoes.

There was no way in hell he was going to be able to make it up those stairs without breaking his fool neck, and though his stomach was loudly protesting his self-imposed fast of the last ten hours, Leonard was pretty sure he'd choke on anything he tried to force down his throat just now.

Len peeled off his coat and tossed it carelessly over the banister, shedding shirt, pants and socks on his way to the couch. Once he'd caught a few hours rest he could straighten out his effects and maybe reunite with his own bed, but for now this was enough. He yanked the blanket off the back of the couch and was asleep before his head hit the cushion.

!

!

!

The room was hardly brighter than the glow of firelight- more darkness than light, and so quiet the silence was almost a tangible presence curled beside him on the rumpled sheets. Leonard breathed deep, basking in the profound sense of peace born of familiarity.

He had been mildly troubled when these dreams first began some weeks ago after another long stretch of too many hours and precious little sleep; normally Len wasn't able to remember his dreams upon waking, but there was a certain quality to this one that haunted him every time he woke from it-

"Did you miss me?" Ah. There it was now.

Leonard turned toward the voice, muffled in the peculiar hush that always pervaded this place. "Like you wouldn't believe." He smiled widely, surrendering himself to the present.

No, he'd never been a man to indulge in fantasy waking or sleeping, but he had come to enjoy this for what it was- nothing more than a release of tension after spreading himself too thin yet again. If this was the form his relaxation was going to take… well, let him that had never had a single salacious thought cast the first stone.

The voice resolved itself into a form that seemed to melt out of the infinite shadows lingering just at the edge of the chamber. Leonard tried not to eye that darkness beyond too closely. Sometimes he imagined he caught sight of _things_ out there, creatures that writhed in agony or maybe ecstasy too acute to be borne; either way, he couldn't bring himself to gaze too deeply into it, not when he had _this _enchanting creature to snare his attention.

He was slender and fair, saved from any suggestion of delicacy by the muscles that shifted and played just beneath his flesh whenever he moved in the way he was doing now: graceful and languid, calculated to draw the eye. Leonard allowed himself a moment to admire the bare expanse of flesh before him; nudity was nothing new, but it seldom affected him like this. Golden hair glinted teasingly when it caught the light, infallibly catching Len's attention each time he dared to glance away from those bottomless eyes.

_God_, those eyes.

The man came to stand beside the bed, head tilted to the side while he studied Leonard's half-concealed form with ill-disguised intent. Leonard shifted slightly, baring a little more skin to that piercing blue gaze; he watched the other man's pupils dilate visibly, darkening the color of his irises to something more in keeping with the midnight sheen of the coverlet twined about Len's waist.

"You just gonna stan' there and admire me from afar all night or would you rather come a little closer?" Leonard didn't like to think too deeply on what it might say of his subconscious whims, but somehow despite this being _his_ damn fantasy he always had to ask the man to approach, even been forced to _beg_ for that scalding touch a time or two.

Tonight though, his lover was as eager as he; no sooner had the words fallen from his lips than Leonard found himself pressed back into absurdly plush pillows, skilled hands touching and kneading like they had been starved of contact for too long.

Leonard's breath stuttered to a halt when he felt the touch of impossibly soft lips against his sternum, following a straight path toward his neck where Len knew his lover would try to leave his mark. And all that hard work undone by the simple expedient of waking; it was almost a pity.

"You're tense. Was there trouble today?" His lover pulled back only enough to lock eyes with him, fingers seeking out the painfully taut muscles of his lower back and digging in until Len would have told him _anything_ to make him stop, or maybe to keep him from stopping-

"Fuck. Do we seriously have to talk about this now?" It might be time to look into a therapist when his most trusted confidant was a nameless fantasy lover created from loneliness and a few of the leftover daydreams from his horny teen years.

"Not now, but you're going to tell me all about it." The man leaned forward, pressing that sinful mouth to his ear, "Later." Never had there been so much promise in one little word; his fingertips stabbed deep and Leonard gasped harshly, unable to stop his hips arching away from the merciless touch.

"Don't know why the hell I should tell you anything; you haven't even bothered to give me your damn name." It was a bit of a sore spot for Leonard that his mind could not be bothered with even the simplest task of giving his tormentor a name- something he could cry out mindlessly in place of profanity. He bit down sharply on an exposed shoulder, more peevish than he would ever admit.

"I'm sure you could think of one." Len wasn't sure how he was supposed to think at all when he felt those callous-roughened thumbs brushing over his hipbones, gliding down and under the sheets.

Yup. The coverlet had to go. Leonard twisted quickly, muttering curses as his legs tangled in the damnable fabric; rich laughter echoed and he ignored it with difficulty, kicking away the light covers.

"Now. Where were we?" Len cast a come-hither glance at his erstwhile partner, daring him to approach. Congratulating himself on his cleverness, Leonard allowed the man to crawl up his body before tapping his elbows firmly and shoving at his shoulders until he toppled charmingly to the bed himself.

"Something about a name?" His fantasy whispered, lips curling into a devilish smirk. Len couldn't stop himself; they both fell silent but for their deep breathing as he caught that insolent mouth in the sort of kiss designed to curl toes and short-circuit intelligent thought. He pulled away, humming with satisfaction at the sound of ragged breathing, the sight of flushed skin and shining eyes.

"It was on the tip of my tongue, I swear; after that though, I really can't remember it."

"S'all right. I'll have it out of you tonight."

A gasp of laughter turned to a shuddering sigh when Len's mouth found the hollow of his throat, pressing wet kisses to the sensitive skin there. Len braced himself on his forearm, reluctantly leaving off his attentions in favor of exploring his lover's skin, fascinated by the contrast of his own tanned hands against the ethereal starlight hue. Muscles spasmed beneath his fingers when he began to trace a delicate pattern up the ribcage, chuckling when he felt his lover squirm.

"You're a tease, Leonard McCoy." On that tongue his name sounded positively wicked; Len took a moment to savor the way his skin tingled at the thinly veiled warning.

Featherlight fingers reached up to mirror his own actions, scoring light scratches into his skin- an erotic sting that had him arching into the touch; Leonard tried valiantly to ignore the way those hips rocked so gently into his- fucking tease indeed. He bit back a surprised growl when a deceptively strong leg hooked around his waist and _pulled_ until he found himself pinned once more.

He didn't have so much as a moment to draw a breath of protest before a slender forearm had pinned his hips; his tormentor only smiled widely up at him, pink tongue darting out to lick his lips suggestively.

"Don't, kid. I'm wound too tight-" The clever bastard didn't even give him a chance to finish the thought before that warm mouth enveloped him, one rough hand squeezing his hip in mute encouragement.

Leonard blushed at the smothered whine that managed to escape his lips despite his best efforts. _Fuck_. He really _was_ no better than a horny teenager, ready to get off after only a few brief caresses and a stolen kiss; there was just something about this man that always had him on edge.

Frantically he bucked and struggled, trying anything to free himself from that grip- in true McCoy fashion, he only made it more difficult for himself when that too-talented mouth just took him deeper.

This wasn't the first time his lover's pretty mouth had destroyed whatever was left of his thinking mind, leaving him nothing more than a panting, begging mess of desperation, but tonight it lacked any finesse.

The blow job was wet and sloppy and _god_ it was doing more for him than any calculated skill ever could. The insufferable gleam in his fantasy's eyes said he knew it too. Len's fingers scrabbled for purchase in the smooth fabric, breath coming short and choppy as he resisted the inevitable; he gasped out a last desperate denial when one finger slipped down his perineum, circling his entrance tauntingly before pushing in the barest bit.

Len bit his lip and swallowed back his cry, gulping deep breaths of air in a last-ditch effort to pull a sliver of air into his lungs. And all the while, his golden-haired lover watched, satisfaction plain in his gaze even as he carefully licked away the evidence of their activities, little jolts of agonizing pleasure racing through Len's overtaxed nerves.

Utterly boneless, Leonard allowed himself to rest, not even bothering to disguise his soft pants; his eyes opened wide when his lover loomed over him, no trace of movement, only a sudden displacement from one place to the next.

His lover regarded him curiously, head tilted to the side, studying him in a way he never had before- like Leonard was more than just a body, like he could see the soul peeking out of his hazel eyes. Hell, he needed to get a handle on his loneliness if it was beginning to conjure fantasies as detailed as this.

"You know, I _like_ you." The apparition murmured, in tones of such surprise, confusion and genuine warmth that Len couldn't quite silence a breathless laugh. It was a familiar line, one spoken nearly every night since he had first conjured this dream from a bottle of whiskey and a heavy heart.

"You don't say? Enough to give me your name?"

It was spoken purely in jest, but the gaze his lover fixed on him was anything but lighthearted. "Are you sure?" He murmured, emotion tangling through the hushed words, hope and fear and wonder and things Leonard couldn't even begin to name.

His own response was hushed and grave, the silence around them suddenly heavier than it had ever been. "I meant… if you want to give it to me." It was official, Leonard H. McCoy was delusional because for this moment, he could have sworn everything that had taken place here tonight and every night before was real… and that was just plain foolish.

It didn't stop his heart from jumping a little when the man spoke again, "Be very, _very_ certain."

"D'you need an engraved invitation?" Leonard tried to break their gaze, found even his sharp tongue hadn't managed to cut through the mounting tension between them.

"Tiberius." The word sounded like a death knell, and Len could see the weight of fear in this sudden stranger's eyes; this wasn't right, in fact it was very wrong. Much as he wanted to wake though, he couldn't bring himself to do it- even knowing this was illusion.

Damn it, this had to stop. Tomorrow. Maybe.

As it was, Leonard managed a teasing grin; "Normally I would show you what happens when you play with fire, but honestly _Tiberius_, I think you might have melted my bones."

A firm hand clamped over his mouth. Indignant, Leonard bit down in mute warning until it was lifted. Tiberius- and they were really going to have to do something about that name- was gazing at him in a mixture of shock, horror and… _fascination_ was the only word he could put to it.

"Don't speak the name again. You never know what might hear you."

_What?_

"You said it first."

"That's different. I'm not-" Tiberius cut off, jumping away swiftly before Leonard could catch him.

"You have to go. Now."

!

!

!

Leonard flailed violently, connecting with the wooden floor solidly when he toppled from the couch. "Shit." He muttered, bracing his arm against the couch until he gained his feet. That had been a decidedly unwelcome wake-up call, but seeing the late noon sun streaming through his window now it was probably for the best. He needed to shower and clean up his things so he'd look at least half presentable when Jocelyn showed up with Jo.

He'd just as soon they didn't catch him as he was now, unsteady and a little bleary-eyed, body still tingling from a night spent indulging fantasy with the evidence quite plain to see. He scrambled for the clothes dumped so unceremoniously on the floor and bounded up the stairs, clinging desperately to the banister for support. Thank God for cold showers and large mugs of coffee, with those two staples Len was sure he could set himself right.

Well, and maybe just a drop or two of whiskey, not enough to linger on his breath but just the right amount to settle the churning feeling of unease in the pit of his stomach.

!

!

The doorbell rang just as he finished putting away his dishes, and any thoughts of too-long shifts and disturbing dreams were banished by a sweet stab of anticipation; he hadn't seen Joanna for any appreciable amount of time since her first day of kindergarten last month, and now to be given the holiday and long weekend with no other commitments save having fun with his baby girl? Perfect.

Running a hand through his still-damp hair in the vain hope of taming it, Len hurried to the door and swung it wide open just in time to catch a bouncing ball of energy already kitted out in pink ruffles and butterfly wings, complete with a grinning skull mask.

"Trick or treat!"

"Trick, obviously. Where's Joanna?"

Giggling, she pulled the mask from her face to beam up at him adoringly; "Still here."

"You scared me half to death, sweetheart; I thought for a second there something had gone and made off with you!" He lifted her quickly, crushing her to him with as much force as he dared; her arms clamped about his neck firmly, nearly cutting off his oxygen. Leonard couldn't bring himself to give half a damn until Jocelyn cleared her throat, foot tapping impatiently on the pavement.

"Thanks for bringing her so soon. I wasn't expecting you till at least this afternoon."

"Joanna was very insistent; she assembled this costume herself- she's been begging me to bring her over and show it to you since last week."

Leonard took in her attire, gaudy shades of pink and gold, striking purple wings sprouting incongruously from her back… and that surprisingly macabre skull dangling from her clenched fist.

"You're gorgeous, Jo. Are you a fairy?"

Jo shrugged noncommittally; "I guess."

Leonard arched a questioning brow, catching Jocelyn's eye.

"She wanted to be the grim reaper; I thought it would be inappropriate so I suggested a fairy. This was our compromise."

"Looks like a grim reaper to me." He tugged gently at the fall of her skirt, smiling roguishly.

"I like the wings anyway." Joanna whispered softly in his ear.

"I like them too; we'll have to show them off to the whole neighborhood tonight." He winced as Joanna shrieked excitedly into his ear, tiny feet pummeling his sides mercilessly.

Now why was Jocelyn still lingering? Joanna was safely delivered, they were already making plans for the evening… right, common courtesy might be a good start. Leonard stepped back into the doorway, moving to the side and gesturing beyond.

"Come into my parlor-"

"Said the spider to the fly." Jo finished, turning to reach a hand toward her mother.

Leonard tried not to let his relief show when Jocelyn shook her head briskly, half turned away from him. "I have errands to run, but I _did _want to remind you that rationing candy will spare Jo her stomach-aches later, and I _don't_ want you encouraging her fantasies with any silly rituals or 'spooky' games. She had some idea that the two of you were going to be summoning the dead or something along those lines."

"I'm still here!" Joanna chimed in, happy smile replaced with a sulky pout he would have to banish with hot cocoa as soon as Jocelyn took her leave. "And I said we were going to tell the future."

The disapproving glare Jocelyn shot him said plainly she held him responsible for Jo's pique; Len only smiled back disarmingly.

"We're just going to play a few games. I promise I won't let her summon any demons that would scorch pentagrams into the cherry floorboards; we're just out to have a little harmless fun."

"You're going to give her nightmares."

With a laudable effort, he kept the affable smile on his face. Barely. " Look, Joss; we're probably going to chant a little nonsense, tell a few stories, definitely eat too much chocolate- it's nothing dangerous, and I promise not to scare Jo too badly."

""M not scared." Jo hissed.

"Course not. Your mum is though; she never could handle her ghost stories."

It was worth Jocelyn's indignant gasp just to see the pitying look Jo bestowed on her mother. "We'll be all right, mommy."

Oh no. "Mommy" was never a good sign; it was the inevitable precursor to Jojo's fledgling attempts at manipulation. Leonard had never had the heart to tell her both he and Joss had her all figured out.

"You can go." A princess dismissing her court, complete with an unconscious wave of her hand. Leonard had to bite his lip viciously to keep from roaring with laughter at Jocelyn's incredulous stare. She'd give him hell for this later, but they were wasting precious daylight with this pointless back-and-forth.

"I've got 'er, and you have errands to run, don't you?" He smirked as Jo stretched to shut the door, freeing a hand to wave at a sputtering Jocelyn.

Jo wriggled out of his hands the moment the door had closed, peering up at him curiously. "You're not really going to take my candy, are you?" He wasn't sure if the sound of tears threatening was an affectation or genuine distress, but either way:

"Not a chance. Halloween tummy-aches are a McCoy tradition; battle wounds valiantly earned."

Apparently that had been exactly the right thing to say; the storm clouds gathering on Jo's brow cleared immediately to be replaced with the sunny smile he had been hoping for.

"Can we go trick-or-treating now?"

"Give it a few hours; we still have a pumpkin to carve 'n cupcakes to bake. Since I'm in such a generous mood, I'll even let you lick the spatula clean."

Joanna's happy laughter was all the reward he needed.

!

!

By the time the clock struck ten that night Joanna was still going strong, and Len _knew_ Jocelyn would use his skin for her new draperies if she ever heard he'd let Jo stay up as late as this. Tomorrow was a Saturday, after all, and it was _Halloween_ for pity's sake; Jo had just barely finished picking out all her favorite candies by the time her normal bedtime rolled around.

Two hours later, she had managed to polish off most of them, and Len was beginning to wonder if maybe Jocelyn hadn't been onto something with that whole rationing suggestion.

Seeing his drooping eyelids, Joanna offered up tootsie rolls in her sticky hand. "Have some sugar, you can't sleep yet!"

"I think you're only offering 'cause you don't like 'em." He plucked one from her palm anyway, stifling a wince at its stickiness. "What are we going to play now?"

What _could_ they play now? Leonard had long since exhausted his collection of kid-friendly ghost stories, having never been much of a fan himself, and Jo had already put him through his paces at charades and cheesy magic tricks. Shouldn't she be getting just the tiniest bit tired about now? He would have been more than happy to tuck her in and keep her company for awhile; Jo had always liked his lullabies, maybe if he offered to sing her to sleep-

"One more game."

Ah, a time frame was established. Apparently even the mightiest of tricker-treaters wearied given enough time and encouragement.

"We need a mirror."

"We are _not_ playing Bloody Mary." Leonard barely suppressed a full-body shudder. Grown men were not supposed to be frightened of urban legends, but damned if that one hadn't always put his hackles up after a friend's cruel prank when he had only been a little older than Jo herself.

No. Mirrors were definitely out of the question.

"Not for Bloody Mary." Jo rolled her eyes with feeling, what was it with kids and _not_ being scared stiff when they should be? That had been the very pinnacle of daring when he was her age, and now suddenly it was worthy of no more than an exasperated roll of the eyes?

Well, he'd take any escape he could anyway.

"My teacher says if you light a candle and look in the mirror at midnight, you might see the face of your true love."

Translation: Joanna wanted an excuse to stay up until midnight.

"That's another couple hours, honey. Neither you nor I are goin' to last that long. What d'you say we try it a little early and then turn in?"

"But then it won't work."

"Sure it will." Already his mind was racing for a way to explain to Joanna why hers would be the only reflection in the mirror. Was it his responsibility to dispel her ideas about this sort of 'magic'? He could just as easily tell her she was her own true love or some such and leave the harder lessons to Jocelyn. It wasn't fair, but _she_ was the one that was usually pushing Jo to grow up a little faster.

As far as Leonard was concerned, if it wasn't hurting her then why bother correcting it? She would grow out of it eventually, and until then he could save up the memories of her childhood to trot out when she brought her friends home later.

Joanna was still eyeing him expectantly, legs folded primly beneath her skirt and pillow case of candy draped over her lap. "I don't know where I'm going to find a mirror that isn't bolted down, but I'll see what I can do about lighting that candle."

Jo perked up immediately, feet slipping all over the floor as she levered herself up and rushed to the stairs. "I've got one! Wait there!"

Of course she had one tucked in her overnight bag, she'd probably been planning this Halloween for a solid month and would _not_ be caught unprepared.

It wasn't long before she skipped down the stairs again, just about giving him a heart attack when she stumbled halfway down; "Joanna, hold onto the rail, _please_."

Something in his tone must have betrayed the scare she'd given him because she took the rest of the stairs at a reasonable pace, small hand braced against the wall while her other arm clutched a handheld mirror to her chest.

He hoped the cinnamon-scented candle her grandmother had given him to burn at Christmas would pass muster for use in this little game. Apparently it did, she spared it no more than a glance and a puzzled sniff before laying the mirror down and jogging over to the light switch.

"Why do we have to turn the lights off?"

"It has to be done in the _dark_, silly." The undercurrent of frustration was plain to hear; Leonard wisely chose not to say another word when she hurried back to him.

"I'm going first."

"I'n't there something you have to say?"

He could practically _feel_ her eyes rolling at his gaucheness. "That's just something they tell _babies_."

"Of course." Leonard murmured, smiling fondly at her dimly lit form.

"You just gotta hold the mirror by the candle and look over your shoulder. Then look back."

"That makes sense." Joanna must have heard the laughter in his tone because one of those dainty feet nudged him sternly, candlelight casting ghastly shadows over her warning face. Leonard subsided while she gazed earnestly into the mirror, lips turning down in disappointment.

"I _told_ you it was too early. This isn't working."

"That can't be right, maybe you just need to look a little longer."

Joanna thrust the mirror at him eagerly, "Then you try."

He snorted softly, tilting the mirror toward the candle as Jo directed, wincing when the light shone directly into his pupil to blind him momentarily.

"Look over your shoulder."

He turned to obey, but Joanna caught his face and turned it back carefully. "_In_ the reflection, daddy."

Leonard would do just about anything once she started throwing "daddy" around, and she knew it too. Resignedly he glanced over his shoulder in the small mirror, tilting it so that he could see just behind him… and nearly hurled it across the room when he caught sight of a face he hadn't expected to see.

Joanna shrieked delightedly, jumping to her feet exuberantly, "You saw something! You saw something!"

Leonard staggered to the light switch, laughing unsteadily. "All right, I've had enough candy and I am too tired for any more games. You can't be much better off; let's get ready for bed."

"What did you see?"

"Got an eyeful of candlelight is all. There's nothing there, Jo. Maybe you're right- we tried it too early, but I'm too tired to wait for midnight. Next year we'll try again, all right?"

Joanna glared, "You're lying."

"Am not." Clearly he was still suffering the effects of his recent bout of sleep deprivation; hopefully eight hours or so would put paid to it.

Jo didn't look ready to concede defeat, but she allowed him to lead her upstairs by the hand and usher her into her own room.

"Can I sleep in my dress tonight?"

She was going to ruin it, but what were the odds of her ever wearing it again?

"Take off the wings at least, you wouldn't want to crush them."

Cheered only somewhat, Joanna slipped her wings and socks off, clambering into bed and waiting patiently for him to tuck the blankets all around her. "You have to tell me who you saw. Do I know them?"

"If I saw anyone- and I didn't- it would be your mother, wouldn't it?"

"No. Mama loves Clay."

Ouch.

"I'm glad to hear it." Len sighed softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I love _you_. You are the singular most important person in all the world as far as I'm concerned, Jo."

He pulled back, surprised at her silence. Normally this was the part where she would wrinkle her nose and tell him to stop being mushy, complete with an abject refusal to kiss him good night. Tonight she had already slipped off to sleep, fingers tangled in her covers.

He stayed to watch her sleep for a few minutes longer, seeing no sign of the nightmares Jocelyn had so dreaded. Ultimately his own body defeated him, eyelids drooping despite his best efforts to stay awake just a moment longer.

Pushing to his feet and fussily rearranging the covers to keep out the chill that had managed to creep through the thin glass of the window, he stood for a moment longer taking in the picture of contentment before him, wishing he could take a snapshot of this moment for later when she grew tired of having her old dad tuck her in.

Len banished the approaching melancholy with a determined shake of his head, marching to his own room stubbornly and changing into his pajamas in record time.

!

!

From time to time as he brushed his teeth and washed his face, he could swear he caught a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye, gone the moment he turned toward it. Apparently Joanna's games had done more to spook him than they had her. What sort of father needed his little girl to protect him from his own imagination? Not much of one.

He could have sworn he felt the weight of someone's gaze on him, sending tremors of uncomfortable awareness down his spine, causing his hair to prickle with unease. Sleep would make it all go away; caffeine and sugar combined with the day's activities had unsettled him, but it was nothing a few hours rest couldn't set right.

Burrowing into the covers of his too-large bed, Leonard stoutly ignored the false alarm his body insisted on giving, eventually falling into a deep sleep.

For the first time in weeks, he didn't dream of the shadowed room or his golden lover.

!

!

* * *

The title is taken from Pablo Neruda's "I do not love you", which is an excellent poem if you have not read it yet!

As if I didn't already have too many projects going, but it just felt right to upload this on Halloween and the next chapter only needs a little polish. :)

Concrit is always appreciated, and Happy Halloween!

With any luck, I should have the next chapter of "Odds Against" up by Saturday at the latest.


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